


Mine, And No Other's

by GemmaRose



Category: Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Biting, Commitment, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fantasizing, Finger Sucking, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Marriage Proposal, Nicknames, Paperwork, Peace, Possessive Sex, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Telepathy, they're so fucking in love ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: With the war officially,emphaticallyover, Soundwave and Hot Rod are eager to see what their relationship looks like in the context of peace. Now if only people would quit hitting on Roddy.
Relationships: Hot Rod/Soundwave (Transformers)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83
Collections: Secret Solenoid '20-'21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withersake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withersake/gifts).



Megatron, Ratchet informed him several days after the fight with the Other Megatron and Perfect Decepticons, was unlikely to wake up. He was stable, hooked up to a number of medical machines to ensure his spark didn’t gutter and all autonomic systems continued functioning as they ought to, but only self-repair could handle whatever was wrong in his processor. Megatron had a strength of will unmatched by any but his own alternate self, Soundwave had no doubt he _would_ eventually wake and return to them, but in the meantime...

“Soundwave, the Autobots you requested are at the wall.”

“Thank you, Sky-Byte.” he said flatly, beckoning Laserbeak down from her perch and opening his dock for her. With Megatron out of commission for the foreseeable future, Shockwave dead, Starscream defected and then turned into that horrific _thing_ by the Quintessons, command of the Decepticons had fallen to him. It had only been a week and a half, but he was already tired of it. The only upside was that, with absolute control over resource allocation, he’d finally been able to get the long-range communications array functional and sent word of the end of the war out on every major Cybertronian frequency, as well as orders to Decepticon Generals to recall their troops to Cybertron. He didn’t have terribly high hopes for them to be actually useful in governing, but if nothing else they would be more frames to help with reconstruction. Decepticons, on the whole, tended to be stronger than Autobots, and brute strength was what they needed right now.

Still, those were thoughts for later, problems he could not solve ahead of time. He shelved that processor thread and pulled his attention back to the task ahead. Convincing the Autobots to help him without giving them power over the Decepticons in any meaningful capacity. He still had to convince most of his faction that they weren’t at risk of becoming second class citizens if they took down the wall and integrated.

“Well well, look who decided to show up.” Chromia said as soon as he was in view of the wall, arms crossed over her chest. At her side, Windblade rolled her optics.

“I am on time.” he said plainly, scanning the assembled Autobots. Optimus, Wheeljack, Chromia, Windblade... his optics narrowed slightly. “I requested _all_ of Autobot Command be present. Where are Ratchet and Hot Rod?”

“Sorry, Soundy.” his helm snapped sideways, towards the brilliant red speedster and crisply painted medic. “Someone had to go drag Docbot here away from his office.” his smile was bright as ever, but it lacked the easy warmth Soundwave had grown used to, those rare occasions he teased it out of Hot Rod during the Quintesson occupation.

“Good, we are all assembled.” he approached the wall and folded his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together to keep from fidgeting with them. “I have already broadcast the ceasefire on all channels, and recalled Decepticon forces to Cybertron to aid in rebuilding. As the sole remaining member of Decepticon Command, I am renegotiating the terms of our truce.”

“Alright.” Optimus nodded, appropriately solemn. “State your terms, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“An integrated government.” he said. No point burying the lede with these mechs. “Decepticons and Autobots working _together_ to restore Cybertron, as equals.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” Optimus said, projecting earnesty so strongly Soundwave could feel it even six paces back and through the disruptive energy field of the wall.

“How long ‘til we can get the wall down?” Hot Rod asked, his tone controlled but spoiler flicking in blatant eagerness. Soundwave was grateful most Autobots didn’t know how to read the matching flare in his shoulder screens.

“I propose we leave it up in most places, but extend the main roads of New Iacon and Kaon and disable the wall where they meet.” personally, he would love nothing more than to take it down completely, but he kept an audial on public opinion and the wall made them feel safe, gave them a sense of security, as if it could do anything against structural inequality. But, if it made his fellow Decepticons more likely to accept this step towards integration, he could handle leaving it up.

“We can set up a checkpoint at the pass.” Chromia suggested. “Keep track of who’s on what side of the wall.”

“I notice you didn’t bring anyone with you.” Ratchet said, his shoulders tight and expression flat. Ah, right, Hot Rod had said he was close with Deadlock while Deadlock was undercover. Likely still in mourning, then. “Where’s your CMO?”

“Offworld.” he lied. The Decepticons had never had enough medics to assemble a proper medical division. Whoever got back first was just going to have to deal with being promoted, he supposed. “I will encourage Decepticons to see you for injuries, and ensure our medics coordinate with you as they return.”

“Good enough.” Ratchet nodded. “I’ll send you some files once I’m back at my office.” he looked over at Optimus, catching the Prime’s optic.

“You may go, Ratchet.” Optimus nodded. “I apologize for dragging you away from your work.”

Ratchet transformed and drove off without another word, and Hot Rod wiggled his spoiler in excitement, rocking back and forth on his pedes. Soundwave didn’t even have to feel his field or read his processor to know that the mech wanted to hug him. “So, like, are we taking any of the wall down yet?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes.” Soundwave nodded, bringing his arms in front of himself and pulling up the controls for the wall, isolating the single stretch in front of him and powering it down. “Come, we can discuss this further back at Headquarters.”

“Thank you, Soundwave.” Optimus said, his voice low and words heavy. “I hope that, together, we can achieve a proper peace for all our people.”

::I hope I can get you over to my place for the night without the risk of getting you shot.:: Hot Rod commed him, and only a long, _long_ lifetime of practice kept Soundwave from visibly reacting.

“And I, as well.” he inclined his helm to Optimus, optics darting over to Hot Rod, who was beaming bright as the sun. Just as warm, too.

\--- 

When the war officially ended, Soundwave had hoped that he and Hot Rod would be able to continue figuring out their relationship and what it would look like in peacetime. Instead, while Hot Rod was in the hospital being patched up and getting toxins flushed from his frame, Megatron had started building the wall and forbade anyone to cross it in either direction. Not that it had stopped Autobots from crossing into their territory to retrieve their comatose cityspeaker, or investigate the unspace cannon. Or, on multiple occasions, just to be with him. They’d kept in touch of course, Hot Rod had complained about missing him, about not being able to shut down mechs who wanted to get a date with him by telling them just who he was already seeing, about how much _datawork_ peacetime generated.

Two of those three problems, at least, would be solved now that he led the Decepticons. He could work alongside Hot Rod, could let their relationship become public knowledge and dissuade Autobots who wanted a piece of _his_ boyfriend. Unfortunately, the amount of datawork needed to integrate two disparate governments while ensuring the Decepticons didn’t get screwed over for their lack of leadership was even more than the amount needed to keep a single government running smoothly. He wasn’t sure if it was helpful or supremely unhelpful that he’d been able to net himself a split office to share with Hot Rod. On the one hand, his favourite speedster being there made it very hard to get truly aggravated with his workload. On the other... well, neither of them was being particularly efficient, when it was so easy for one of them to slide into the other’s lap and waste away the time kissing and holding each other.

“C’mon, Hot Stuff.” a voice drifted down the hall, and Soundwave paused outside the door to their office, datapads tucked under his arm and a cube in each hand to fuel them through their third late night in a row. “Your datawork can wait ‘til morning, Percy and his pet Con have your favourite drink as the special tonight.”

Soundwave bristled, and made a mental note to suggest Hot Rod pitch another outreach program for getting the rank-and-file Autobots to accept Decepticons among them. His faction would never feel welcome when their peers spoke of them as if they were lesser.

“Sorry, I really do need to get these files looked at.” Hot Rod’s voice reached him, and Soundwave was three strides down the hall before he realized he was moving. He tucked the energon cubes in his subspace to free his hands, and fixed his optics on the mech who’d all but bodily pinned Hot Rod against the wall.

“C’mon, how important can it really be?” the mech- one of those Cube players Soundwave had never bothered learning the names of- asked, leaning further into Hot Rod’s personal space.

“Very.” Soundwave answered the rhetorical question, stopping just shy of physically shoving the mech away from Hot Rod, who quickly twisted to get his back against Soundwave’s chest, spoiler tight and trembling.

“Spoilsport.” the Cube player scoffed, field loose and bristling with irritation. Ah, this was likely one of those mechs Hot Rod had mentioned, the ones who kept bothering him to go out on a date despite the fact that he was _taken_.

“Is he one of the ones you told me about, Roddy?” he asked, shortening Hot Rod’s designation and layering it with informal, affectionate data tags. Enough for any mech with a functioning processor to understand the nature of their relationship.

“Yep.” Hot Rod nodded, arms crossing over his chest. “Remember how I told you the last five times that I’m taken?” he asked the mech, jerking his helm back at Soundwave. “Meet my boyfriend.”

“Him?” the Autobot scoffed, field heavy with disbelief.

“Yes.” Soundwave confirmed. “Now, if you know what is best for you, you will not continue to harass my partner with solicitations for him to cheat on me. They will not be successful.”

“Yeah, sure.” the mech scoffed, and turned to walk away.

“Thanks, babe.” Hot Rod said, leaning back into him as the tension slowly left his spoiler. “That mech is _relentless_.”

“If he bothers you again, tell me.” Soundwave said, wrapping an arm around Hot Rod’s middle.

“Mm, I’ll tell you when I set him on fire and you can back me up?” Hot Rod grinned up at him, field loosening from its tight furl against his plating to brush warm and playful against his.

“Only if he throws the first punch.” Soundwave admonished, and Hot Rod laughed.

“ _Now_ you’re being a spoilsport.” he teased, pulling away and turning to nuzzle Soundwave’s mask. “But for real, we do need to get this scrap done or Chromia’s gonna be on my aft about it tomorrow.”

“I got fuel.” Soundwave offered, pulling one of the cubes out and offering it to Hot Rod. “Splashed some pentane in it to give us a boost.”

“Best boyfriend _ever_.” Hot Rod took the cube and popped the top off, throwing back a quarter of it in a single graceful gulp. A drop escaped the side of his mouth, and Soundwave couldn’t tear his optics from it as he opened the door to their office. Hot Rod licked his lips, and Soundwave snapped his mask back to lean in and kiss the trailing drop of fuel from his lover’s chin. Hot Rod’s engine revved, and they both froze, Soundwave’s lips hovering just a breath away from Hot Rod’s. “Frag, Soundy, I _really_ don’t want to do my work when you do that.”

“I don’t either.” Soundwave murmured, brushing his nose against Hot Rod’s, spark spinning so fast in his chest he could feel its corona pulsing against his fuel pump. “But we both need to.”

Hot Rod groaned, field awash with desire and reluctance as he pulled away. Soundwave knew his own was much the same. “You owe me for this.” Hot Rod muttered, taking another drink of his fuel and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “When we get home, I demand cuddles.”

“Of course.” Soundwave smiled, and forced himself to turn away from Hot Rod to his desk. “And just think, the sooner we finish, the sooner you can take me home and have your wicked way with me.” he flared his visor and biolights suggestively, and Hot Rod laughed, the prickly reluctance fading from his field to leave it full of warm amusement laced through with affection so powerful it tingled where their fields meshed at the edges.

“I’m not having any kind of way with you on a pentane crash, and you know that.” Hot Rod’s optics crinkled at the corners as he sipped more of his fuel. “Hence the cuddles.”

“Of course, hence the cuddles.” Soundwave nodded, pulling out his own fuel and drinking deeply, careful not to let it overflow out the edges of his mouth. It was going to be a long night, and he needed every bit of energy he could get.

\--- 

::They’re still at it.:: Hot Rod commed him as he was fetching their lunch. ::Cube-head thinks you’re just playing along to give me an excuse to turn them down.::

::Them?:: Soundwave frowned.

::Three of them. As if I’d go out with idiots who try to ask me out in packs, even if we weren’t together.:: Tone didn’t carry over comms, but Hot Rod’s subglyphs were derisive enough Soundwave could well imagine how scathing he would sound in person.

::I’ve got our fuel.:: he sent, grabbing a little folded foil container of rust sticks and an even smaller packet of energon goodies. As it turned out, Decepticons knew an awful lot more about production of goods than most Autobots, and purple-wrapped treats were becoming a staple at most bars and energon dispensaries. After millions of years of rations, everyone wanted their little luxuries again. ::Returning to the office now.::

:;Thanks.:: Hot Rod sent him, and Soundwave walked through the halls in brisk silence. They didn’t have long to finish up their datawork before the next meeting, and Hot Rod always took longer to fuel when he was savoring goodies and rust sticks, but after dealing with three whole idiots trying to coerce him into a date at once he thought Hot Rod probably deserved the treats.

Said idiots were, thankfully, already gone when he arrived back at their office. He would’ve loved to have knocked some sense into them manually, but it was for the best he was denied the chance to dish out some hands-on justice. Decepticons were still viewed by most Autobots as violent thugs, and even if he was acting in defense of Hot Rod, knocking out some ex-celebrity Cube players would only reinforce those stereotypes. “I got rust sticks and goodies.” he said, pulling the fuel from his subspace and setting one of the cubes in front of Hot Rod, the treats between them.

“The way this day’s been going, I almost wish you’d gotten engex.” Hot Rod groaned, slumping forwards to let his face press against his desk. Soundwave remotely locked their office door.

“That bad?” he asked hooking a pede around the visitor chair and dragging it closer to sit across from Hot Rod.

“These mechs just won’t take no for an answer!” he threw up his hands. Soundwave nudged the rust sticks closer. “And we still haven’t got anything like a decent justice system set up, so the most I can do is ask Prime to give them a stern talking-to.”

“And Prime is far too busy to heap personnel issues on.” Soundwave sighed, well acquainted with Hot Rod’s tendency to minimise his discomfort for the convenience of others. He’d led a damn resistance against the Quintesson occupation with a festering stab wound and a toxin build-up in his plating and lines high enough he should’ve been sedated until it could be flushed, and he hadn’t complained once, had barely even admitted it hurt when Soundwave asked.

“That’s about the shape of it.” Hot Rod groaned. Soundwave nudged to rust sticks closer again, bumping them against Hot Rod’s forearm.

“Eat.” Soundwave suggested, cracking open his cube. “We can brainstorm while we fuel.”

Hot Rod let out a theatrical groan as he pushed himself up off the desk, but he did take the rust sticks and crumble one into his cube, using a second to stir it around until it was all dissolved. “I think the problem is, they don’t believe we’re together.” he said after a stretch of companionable silence. “I had my share of casual flings with other Bots, during the war, but I always said I wasn’t interested in anything serious.”

In Soundwave’s opinion, the problem was a lack of respect, but that was a conversation for another time. “So we make some sort of announcement?” Soundwave frowned, fishing out one of the little energon goodies and popping it in his mouth. They were the kind that were gelled all the way through, and squished nicely between his denta. “Go on a date somewhere especially public?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a date night.” Hot Rod chuckled, picking up a goodie and rolling it between his fingers, letting the gel go soft and sticky, coating his plating and staining the yellow a soft pink-gold. “But these mechs are _convinced_ you’re just playing along.”

“Hmm.” Soundwave hummed, considering their options as he took another sip of his fuel, optics fixed on Hot Rod’s sticky pink fingers, glimmering wetly with gelled fuel. “Something harder to refute, then.” he set down his cube and reached out to catch Hot Rod’s wrist, lifting his hand to catch the gooey core of the energon goodie on his glossa and flick it into his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree, Roddy?” he layered the nickname heavily with subglyphs of affection and possession. Hot Rod’s vents stalled, the sudden silence only amplifying how his fans roared to life when Soundwave sucked his messy fingers into his mouth.

“ _Frag_ , Soundy.” he whimpered, field heating rapidly against Soundwave’s as Soundwave cleaned the warm, sticky fuel from his fingers. “We’ve got meetings later.”

Soundwave sucked the last bits of fuel from Hot Rod’s plating, and under the roar of cooling fans he heard the distinctive sound of Hot Rod’s spike pressurising against his modesty panel. His valve cycled down at the sound, lubricant trickling out to slick the inside of his own panels. “And you can be a good Bot through them, can’t you?” he purred, running his thumb over Hot Rod’s palm. “Do you want to be good for me?”

“Yes.” Hot Rod’s voice trembled, optics wide and fixed on Soundwave, field pulsing and flaring with _affection anticipation lust_.

“Then finish your fuel.” Soundwave purred, and released Hot Rod’s hand. Hot Rod sat up fast as Soundwave had ever seen, and began practically chugging his cube of energon. Soundwave chuckled and drank his own down as Hot Rod polished off the rust sticks, and plucked a few goodies from the package before Hot Rod could eat _all_ of them.

“Done.” Hot Rod said as soon as he swallowed the last energon goodie, optics bright and spoiler fluttering with excitement.

Soundwave popped one of the rescued energon goodies in his mouth and chewed slowly, watching Hot Rod try not to squirm in his seat. His spike would still be straining behind his panels, every shift of his hips rubbing the sensitive tip against the inside of his armour. “We still have the whole rest of the day to go, so I’ll keep it simple.” he said, picking up another goodie and rolling it between his fingers. Without outlier flames, it was in no danger of melting all over him. “I’m going to be thinking about you for the rest of the day.” he lowered his voice, both in volume and register, standing to better lean over Hot Rod’s desk. “Every moment we’re in those meetings, when we’re finishing up our datawork after, each step in the halls in between, I will be thinking of your spike in me.”

The noise Hot Rod made was so needy it might’ve been pitiful from another mech. From Hot Rod, however, it only stoked the flame building in his array. “You’ll be able to tell, of course.” he knew Hot Rod’s processor well enough now to effectively send a stream of his thoughts to Roddy using his telepathy, damped down until they were but a shadow. “And if you manage to not overload before we get home, I’ll let you spike me.” he leaned down, pushing all his burning lust out into his field, ensconcing Hot Rod in it as he dropped his voice low enough it was barely a rumble in the sliver of air between his mouth and Hot Rod’s audial. “And then, I’ll spike you until you’re _begging_ for mercy.”

Soundwave nearly lost his composure at the noise that left Hot Rod’s vocaliser, thin and needy and edging on desperate. “You’re _mean_.” Hot Rod whined, hands trembling on the desk in front of him. Good mech, he knew better than to touch without permission when they played like this.

“You love it.” Soundwave shifted to kiss Hot Rod on the lips, valve throbbing needily behind his panel. He would have to ask Laserbeak to record everything, because the odds of him remembering more than the barest outlines of whatever they were to discuss today were slim to none.


	2. Chapter 2

Hot Rod, by some miracle, managed to keep a handle on his charge through the end of the day. Soundwave, meanwhile, had to find a closet with some absorbent cleaning cloths after the first meeting because otherwise he would’ve been leaking all down his thighs. They tumbled through the door to their habsuite already entangled in each other, Hot Rod gasping pleas against his lips and Soundwave fumbling to get the door locked behind them. Laserbeak was out for a flight, he’d told her to come home as late as she pleased, and none of Hot Rod’s friends were over to visit. It was just them.

“Berth, now.” he panted when they parted, and Hot Rod pulled him there so fast they nearly tripped over each other twice just crossing the short stretch of floor. Soundwave’s panel opened somewhere along the way, the sodden rags falling out from behind it well before his back hit the berth. He scooted up, Hot Rod following him, the room already warming from their combined heat. “Let me see you.” he said, and Hot Rod’s modesty panels practically leapt open, spike rushing out as Hot Rod moaned, low and musical, sending a bolt of molten charge straight down his spinal strut, direct to his array.

The biolights on his spike flashed rapidly, asynchronous and so bright they nearly flickered. The length of it seemed more swollen than usual, over-pressurised almost, and Hot Rod’s hips bucked into his touch when he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please, Soundwave.” he trembled, kneeling upright between Soundwave’s spread legs, field molten with need. “Please, please, I’m so close-”

“Spike me, Roddy.” Soundwave said, dropping his hand from Hot Rod’s spike to spread the mesh rim of his dripping, eager valve. Hot Rod let out a wordless cry, and almost literally fell on him, lips crashing against Soundwave’s hard enough he thought he felt his derma split, but before he could do more than register the possibility one of Hot Rod’s hands was on his dock rim, the other guiding his spike into Soundwave’s waiting valve.

He moaned into Hot Rod’s mouth, hands lifting to clutch at his lover over him, hips canting up to give Hot Rod the best angle to slide in, the thick ridges layered along the topside of Hot Rod’s spike grinding hard against nodes in his valve. Soundwave, too, was close to overload. Half the workday, he’d been fantasising about Hot Rod taking him passionately in various parts of HQ, and now he was finally getting it. Hot Rod’s hands burned on his plating, hot enough to demand attention but not hot enough to do any damage. His spike sank swiftly and smoothly into Soundwave’s valve, filling him just as perfectly as it ever had, and Soundwave moaned eagerly into Hot Rod’s mouth, yielding to the delicious burn of his lover’s glossa.

“Love you.” Hot Rod panted when he pulled back, rocking his hips against Soundwave’s in short, sharp thrusts. “Love you so much, Soundy.”

“Roddy.” Soundwave gasped, arching up against his lover’s frame, clawing at Hot Rod’s spoiler, and then Hot Rod was overloading and the surge of charge sent Soundwave over the edge as well, his cry spiralling off into static as Hot Rod’s hips pistoned into him desperately three, four, five times before he collapsed hot and trembling on top of Soundwave, panting hard in his audial.

“Frag, that was awesome.” Hot Rod chuckled, shifting to get properly comfortable on top of Soundwave, his field cooling from molten lust to sunny adoration. “Do you want another valve round?” he asked, stroking a hand over Soundwave’s cheek, thumb tracing the lower edge of his visor.

“Are you up for it?” Soundwave asked, stroking gently over Hot Rod’s waist. His speedster, who had admitted when they first got together that he wasn’t much of a spike mech, lacked the rapid refractory period famed among his frametype. They’d been working on it, but progress was slow and the results inconsistent.

“Ask me in a bit.” Hot Rod groaned, flopping down heavily on top of Soundwave and nuzzling into his neck. That was probably a no, then. Hot Rod didn’t like switching back and forth, and Soundwave could already feel his charge rising again, his spike repressurising between their frames. Still, it was only polite to wait, and he didn’t mind taking a little while to just, kiss Hot Rod. Touch him gently, pet that gorgeous, sensitive spoiler, tease his vents with light touches. Hot Rod moaned against his neck, and Soundwave’s low chuckle in his audial earned a nip on the main energon line to his processor. His spike twitched, and Hot Rod made a frustrated sound as his own remained floppy and half-pressurised.

“It’s alright.” he soothed, nuzzling Hot Rod’s audial. “You know I’m happy with any amount of spiking, Roddy.”

“I know, but I want to take care of you as good as you take care of me.” Hot Rod’s field rippled with longing, and Soundwave pulled back just enough to kiss him properly, redoubling the love in his field, wrapping it around them both like a shield.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” he murmured, gently rolling them over, settling himself between Hot Rod’s lubricant-slicked thighs.

“You were there for me.” Hot Rod murmured, spreading his legs readily, showing off the flushed, quivering ring of mesh which encircled his valve entrance, plump with energon and studded around with bright dots of blue biolights, plus a node so charged it was nearly white. “I barely cared about myself, and you reminded me that I should.” he lifted a hand to caress Soundwave’s cheek, and Soundwave caught it, holding it still to press a kiss to Hot Rod’s palm.

“Someone had to keep you from running yourself into the ground.” he said gently, the discussion one well-worn already. It didn’t quite feel real to either of them, that they’d fallen together so perfectly and continued to fit even after the war ended. “Love you.”

Hot Rod trilled softly, pushing up off the berth, and Soundwave met him in a deep, tender kiss, rocking his spike against Hot Rod’s dripping valve almost as an afterthought, the oversized nodes ringing the base third of his spike catching and tugging at lust-swollen mesh and making them both moan into each other’s mouths. He pulled back enough to get the tip of his spike in, and then a single thrust got up to the first ring of oversized nodes buried in Hot Rod’s eager valve. Hot Rod threw his helm back, moaning loud and wanton as Soundwave ground deeper, working his hips in tight circles, rocking his spike further into the needy, clenching calipers of his lover’s valve.

“Perfect.” he panted as he fit the second row of nodes past Hot Rod’s rim, charge leaping between the sensors and Hot Rod’s first ring of calipers. “Frag, Roddy, you’re so good, so good for me.”

“Keep- keep that up and I’m not gonna last.” Hot Rod’s vocaliser fizzled with static, and Soundwave ducked down to kiss him again, harder than last time but no less thorough.

“Me either.” he admitted when they parted, moaning low as he worked the third ring of nodes into Hot Rod. One more and he’d be fully hilted, and then the real fun could begin. “Can’t resist you.” he dropped an open-mouthed kiss on Hot Rod’s cheek, and his fans kicked up a notch when Hot Rod willingly, _eagerly_ tilted his helm back to let Soundwave at his neck. “So pretty, so clever.” he murmured, punctuating his sentences with wet kisses to the cables of Hot Rod’s throat. “You’re so wonderful, Roddy.”

Hot Rod moaned at that, valve cycling down tight, and Soundwave bucked instinctively into the pressure, both of them gasping as it finally brought their arrays together fully. “Frag me, Soundy.” Hot Rod gasped, and Soundwave did. Normally he liked to start slow, work Hot Rod up until he was begging and then make him overload until he couldn’t see straight, but tonight he didn’t have the patience for that. Half a day’s worth of teasing them both with filthy fantasies had well and truly shot his patience, and unbidden his processor pulled up what had started it all. The Cube-player nobodies who had been hitting on _his_ lover, who refused to believe Hot Rod was taken.

He set a brutal pace, nice and rough, just how Hot Rod liked it, and bit down hard on Hot Rod’s neck cabling, feeling wires crimp and protective casings crumple under his denta. He gripped Hot Rod’s hips hard enough to dent, and moaned at the babbling stream of pleas falling from Hot Rod’s vocaliser. “Anything you want.” he murmured when he lifted his mouth from Hot Rod’s ruined neck, nipping at his love’s chin just hard enough to draw energon. “Anything for you, Roddy. Love you so much, so perfect, so brave.” he barely paid attention to the words spilling from his own vocaliser as he kissed his way back down Hot Rod’s neck, then out across his shoulder until his lips met the glossy point of Hot Rod’s chest decal. Flames that not even a lethal dose of toxins in his plating had been able to dull.

Much like Hot Rod’s spark, really. Perhaps he should pitch that to Sky-Byte, it seemed the sort of thing which should be immortalised in a poem.

“Love you.” he breathed, mouthing at the pointed tip of Hot Rod’s decal where it stuck far enough past his chestplate Soundwave could get his lips around it. “Proud of you.” he bit down, and wasn’t sure if it was the bite or his words or both that had Hot Rod arching under him, high keen dissolving into a burst of static as the change in angle dragged Soundwave’s pounding spike over some of his nodes harder than before.

“Please. Please, please, I’m so close.” Hot Rod sobbed, clutching at him desperately, and Soundwave abandoned Hot Rod’s decal to kiss him fiercely again, this time leaning his weight into it, demanding submission and getting it with a flare of eagerness.

“Perfect.” he panted when they pulled apart, shifting to nip at Hot Rod’s forehelm crest. “So good, Roddy. So good for me.” he rocked back and pushed himself mostly upright, shifting his hands to Hot Rod’s thighs and pulling him into his lap with the next thrust, drawing a crackling warble from the mech’s rebooting vocaliser. “Overload for me.”

Hot Rod did. Soundwave pulled out, fighting his own instinctive urge to bury himself in that welcoming heat and the pull of Hot Rod’s field, the needy noises he made as overload swept through him without a spike in his valve to heighten the sensations. Thankfully, flipping Hot Rod over onto his front was a simple thing, and it was only a moment before Soundwave was sinking back into his partner’s valve, resuming his jackhammer pace and drinking down the sheer ecstasy in Hot Rod’s field.

“Gonna frag you so good.” he panted, dropping forward to grab Hot Rod’s hands and pin them to the berth on either side of his helm, his dock rubbing against Hot Rod’s spoiler. “Mark you up all over.” he pitched his voice down to a growl and nipped at the edge of Hot Rod’s audial. “Make sure everyone who sees you knows you’re _mine_.”

“Yes!” Hot Rod shouted, rocking back into Soundwave’s thrusts, spoiler battering against his chest. “Yes, yes, I’m yours. Frag, Soundy, I’m yours. Make me yours.”

“Mine.” Soundwave growled, and dipped his helm to bite at the yet-unmarked back of Hot Rod’s neck, charge surging hot in his lines as he lifted his hands from where they twined with Hot Rod’s to scrape down his front, leaving blue streaks to match the ones decorating his wiggly spoiler. He wasn’t going to last much longer like this, but he could at least get Hot Rod to overload with him. “You’re _mine_ , Hot Rod. Spark and frame.” he kept his vocaliser pitched as low as it went, enough volume in it to resonate in Hot Rod’s struts and draw another warbling cry from his overtaxed vocaliser. “Gonna mark you up so everyone knows it. So no mech on Cybertron could ever think you’re not _taken_.” he thrust harder to punctuate his promise, and Hot Rod sobbed, field roiling with desire.

Soundwave felt his spike tip kiss the back of Hot Rod’s valve, and stopped thrusting to grind instead, vents quickening as charge passed between the sensor-laden tip of his spike and the conductive metal of what must be Hot Rod’s inner port, since his ceiling node would have him screaming in ecstasy with this pressure. “Maybe I should spark you up.” he murmured, jerking his hips against Hot Rod’s to bump his spike tip against the sensitive port. “Then there’d really be no mistaking that you’re mine for good.”

Hot Rod overloaded like an electro-whip cracking, his frame going taut in an instant, vocaliser shorting completely as charge lit up every seam in his frame and grounded in Soundwave, toppling him over the edge as well. He shouted something, maybe Hot Rod’s name maybe not, and bucked into his partner’s valve on raw instinct, dragging his nodes over the matching ones in Hot Rod’s valve lining, cycling charge between them, prolonging both their overloads until, as suddenly as it had ignited, their charge was spent and they collapsed to the berth together. Soundwave moaned into the back of Hot Rod’s collar fairing, utterly drained, and Hot Rod’s field echoed the feeling, though with an undercurrent of surprise and confusion.

Soundwave pulled out, and chuckled softly as Hot Rod hurriedly got his knees under him better, keeping his aft raised in what could only be an instinctive attempt to keep as much transfluid in himself as he could. They were both, of course, fitted with baffles and spark shunts, as was standard protocol for soldiers in either faction, but Hot Rod had evidently liked the idea, at least as dirty talk. “You good?” he asked, sitting next to one of Hot Rod’s knees, legs folded sideways and leaning slightly on the hand not petting his lover’s scraped-up plating.

“Yeah.” Hot Rod rasped after a moment, turning his helm so they could look at each other. “How did you...” he trailed off, gaze flicking over towards the wall, denta worrying at his kiss-shined lower lip.

“I didn’t know you had a carrying kink, honest.” Soundwave promised. “I hit your inner port and it sort of slipped out.”

“It’s...” Hot Rod’s field went queasy with anxiety, then steadied out into firm resolve. “It’s not just a kink.” he said, his glyphs unadorned and ringing with truth. “I’ve always kinda wanted to have a sparkling or two. Nyon was big on the whole family thing, y’know.” he shrugged, spoiler trembling with anxiety that Soundwave didn’t know how to calm, or even if he should. “I mean, obviously now’s not a great time to have a bitty. We’re both so super busy, and Cybertron still needs so much work done, and I can’t even keep my spike pressurised long enough to frag you right if you wanted to carry-”

“Roddy.” Soundwave moved his hand up to rest on Hot Rod’s spoiler hub, cutting off what was turning into pointless babbling. “I would love to start a family with you, once we agree that we’re ready.”

Hot Rod twisted at that, wiggling over onto his back, transfluid immediately running from his valve to stain his inner thighs. “Are you up for another round tonight?” he asked, field alight with eager anticipation, and Soundwave chuckled as he leaned in to give his love a quick, chaste kiss.

“For you? Of course.”

There was the sound of a transformation sequence engaging, armour sliding apart, and Hot Rod’s open, earnest face was suddenly awash with blue light. Sparklight. Soundwave froze, optics locked on his love’s face. Hot Rod’s spark was right there, so close to his own, only his dock in the way. “I love you, Soundwave.” Hot Rod said, his field a riot of anxiety and determination, hesitation and certainty, and under it all a burning current of unwavering affection. “I know we’ve not done any steps of the ritus, I know this is a lot to ask without that contract already set and time-tested, but I’m not changing my mind. I want you. I want to be yours, and you to be mine. I want us to make a family together, and keep fixing Cybertron, and not let anything tear us apart ever again.”

Hot Rod paused, venting deeply, his spoiler utterly still against the berth as he stared up at Soundwave. “My spark is yours, Soundwave, if you’ll have it.”

Soundwave couldn’t help it, his optics drifted from Hot Rod’s face down to the bared crystal in his chest, exposed to open air, to Soundwave’s sight. Conjunxes could be bonded for vorns without seeing each other’s sparks, and yet... it didn’t feel wrong at all, looking upon the naked soul of his partner. Soundwave’s dock split open as he shifted in place, getting his legs under himself so he was properly kneeling. Hot Rod took his hand when he offered it, and a quick pull had his lover straddling his lap. The warm air of the berthroom felt odd against his spark, which had only been bared in medical offices before, and Soundwave felt almost as if he were in a trance as he wrapped his arms around Hot Rod, bringing their sparks together.

It was like nothing Soundwave had ever felt before, there was no word for it but _unity_ , complete and perfect, the sensations of his physical frame falling away as Hot Rod’s memories poured into him, flashing through his processor as if they were his own. A shabby apartment in Nyon, warm with love for his city and flatmates, music and the smell of cheap street food drifting in the open window. Tarmac humming under his wheels, air whipping over his spoiler, spark soaring as he wove between obstacles and other racers, shooting towards the finish line. The lingering thrill of a good race as he draped himself over the laps of strangers in a club lit as much by the patron’s biolights as it was the lights in the ceiling, their features blending together but the interest and charge in their fields all the same.

Embarrassment flushed through him, and Soundwave realized Hot Rod likely hadn’t meant for him to see that. He fumbled slightly for how to express himself through the bond, then projected his non-judgement as firmly as he could. Hot Rod had a life before the war, before Soundwave, and he would not cast judgement on any part of it. He had no right to.

Hot Rod’s amusement and affection enveloped him, and the next memory came with the sense that Hot Rod _wanted_ him to watch it, that he thought it was important. Nothing particularly noteworthy was happening, Hot Rod running drills with other Autobots, but the memory rang clear with determination, with a sense of purpose, a clarity of focus. It had been important, to Hot Rod, being an Autobot. He’d felt that he could finally do some good, protect those he loved. The memory melted away almost as soon as Soundwave thought that, and his spark wrenched painfully in his chassis at the raw _grief_ suffusing the next one. A city, Hot Rod’s city, in flames, burning around the titanic pedes of Zeta’s war machines, attacked while Hot Rod was away learning to wage war. His failure, his _fault_ -

 **No**. Soundwave shoved his denial at Hot Rod, knocking away the memory. Zeta’s actions were his own, Hot Rod would have died in Nyon had he been there, and then where would any of them be? The grief echoed still, bouncing between their sparks, and Soundwave cast about for a memory he could use to move Hot Rod on from the old hurt. What he presented, after a frantic moment, was Laserbeak. Flying high in a clear blue sky with her kin, swooping down curiously when he called to her with the sounds of her kind. Hot Rod’s grief softened as he remembered Soundwave forging his bond with Laserbeak, his presence in the memory like warm fingers tracing the lines of a worn photograph.

Soundwave dug deeper and produced more memories, his cramped and cluttered habsuite in the workers’ dorms for Staniz’s factories, honing his telepathy listening to his coworkers entertain themselves in their processors through the monotony of a long shift, literally stumbling into Megatron coming out of a bar and scraps of the meetings that followed, the elation of moving with him to Iacon so Megatron could compete in the arena there and get some real traction for his ideals. They’d been so determined back then, dead set on changing the world, him working odd jobs and Megatron fighting in the ring. Hot Rod’s presence hovered over each memory with a sort of simmering curiosity, edged by nostalgia and twinges of that same old hurt.

The next memory came unbidden, and Soundwave was certain if his audials had been online he would’ve heard himself make the most pitiful, wounded noise. He’d met Jazz on a grey and rainy day, the two of them hiding under an awning to keep out of the downpour. He’d only just started temping as a data clerk- had actually met Orion Pax later that same week- and ducked in to protect his paint job so he would look presentable. Jazz had been running a delivery for a shop that did crystal flower arrangements, the precious things too delicate to survive a dousing of acid rain. They’d talked, and when the rain finally passed Jazz had plucked a silver-stemmed one with a lace of frail blue petals from the bunch and pressed it into Soundwave’s hands, promised to be at Maccadam’s later that night.

Hot Rod brushed up against the memory with naked curiosity, soaking in the affection, tugging on the bitter thread of _grief guilt regret_ running through it. Soundwave could feel the memory on the other end of that thread rising through his processor, breaking free of all the folders he’d used to bury it, and the fear which ripped through him did nothing to help push it back down. And then, abruptly, they were in another memory, Hot Rod’s presence soothing against his spark, sharing sensations of warmth and safety and comfort, applying the memory to ease Soundwave’s spark down from the state he’d worked himself up into.

As he looked around, Soundwave realized he knew this memory. Pit, he was _in it_ , wrapped around Hot Rod, a blanket protecting his frame from Hot Rod’s toxin-blackened armour. **Safe** , Hot Rod pushed at him, and Soundwave burrowed into the feeling, marveling a little at the fact that, even so early in their relationship, before they’d figured out what they wanted to be to each other, he’d been able to make Hot Rod feel like this. The memory faded out, but Soundwave knew the next one too, had felt for himself the flare of delighted affection which welled in his lover every time they met at the wall. It shifted again, even more recent, _safety relief adoration_ wrapping around him as Hot Rod stood with Soundwave at his back, arms crossed against the mechs who’d refused to take no for an answer. Pride flared in his field as he declared Soundwave to be his boyfriend, rose and tangled with affection and smug satisfaction when Soundwave threatened the creeps into leaving.

Soundwave shared his own memory of the incident, doing his best to sideline the remembered anger in favour of his protectiveness, his brief flare of joy when Hot Rod laid claim to him. Hot Rod teased the anger free though, and the memory washed away under the surge of affection Hot Rod poured over him, a flood which Soundwave happily matched.

They pulled apart slowly, rising out of the merge with stuttering vents and static-hissing vocalisers, both their faces streaked with tears. Hot Rod leaned closer, lips brushing warm over the damp spots at the lower edge of Soundwave’s visor, and Soundwave shivered at the contact, every sensor in his frame twice as sensitive as it ever was during any type of standard interfacing. He pushed his chest forward again, not enough to instigate another full merge but enough to bring the coronas of their sparks into contact. Enough to press something into the bond which now stretched between them, thin and fragile as spun glass.

It wasn’t a memory this time, but a thought, a hope, one grown in the back of his processor as Hot Rod laid himself bare and asked Soundwave to accept him. Hot Rod’s fans kicked up a notch, vents sucking in a deep gasp of air as he processed what Soundwave had imagined. One hand found Soundwave’s, tangling their fingers together, and the other pressed to his abdominal plating. Sleek and smooth, baseline for his frametype, but some day his armour would part over heavy, insulating protometal, his belly would swell around a hardy little protoform, a tiny, vibrant newspark would orbit inside his spark casing and they would have a sparkling.

Hot Rod kissed him with renewed fervour, and sent the mental image back to him, making Soundwave moan into his mouth as it unfolded across his HUD. Hot Rod, round and heavy with a sparkling, Laserbeak perched on Soundwave’s shoulder as they kissed, that had all been in the thought he sent to Hot Rod. But Hot Rod had added another sparkling, one with Soundwave’s blue plating and visor, an adorably outsized spoiler fluttering happily behind their back as Soundwave held them on his hip opposite Laserbeak, their tiny hands resting on Hot Rod’s belly. A high, clear little voice rang phantom in his audials, babbling indistinctly in what he knew, inexplicably, to be Stanizian, to be Nyonian.

“You want it too.” Hot Rod said, his voice strained with emotion, optics brimming with coolant again even as he beamed. “Our future, our _family_.”

“They will be safe.” he swore, and he could feel where their sparks still brushed each other that Hot Rod understood him. “They will never know war, never want for comfort, never feel true hunger.”

Hot Rod kissed him again, hands lifting to cradle his face, and Soundwave held his lover by the hips to drag him as close as possible. His spark sank back into his chassis without conscious command, his dock reconfiguring back to standard once the crystal was back where it belonged. In his lap, Hot Rod’s chestplates closed, tucking the brilliant blue star of his spark safely away once more. They kissed for some time more, until Hot Rod broke away to giggle, affection so thick in his field Soundwave could’ve happily drowned in it.

“We’ve done this a little backwards, haven’t we?” he mused, laying his hand over Soundwave’s badge, over his spark. “Sparkbonding, talking about bitties. We’re not even conjunx yet.”

“We could be.” Soundwave said, trailing his hands up from Hot Rod’s hips, over his narrow waist.

“Are you proposing to me, Soundy?” Hot Rod’s smile widened, his field alight with affection, dancing with mirth.

“I can hardly think of a greater Act of Intimacy than what we’ve just done.” he pointed out, and Hot Rod laughed, leaning in to wrap his arms loosely around Soundwave’s neck.

“Well, considering we just saw into each other’s sparks, you’re gonna be hard pressed to find an act of disclosure.” Hot Rod smiled, a lick of challenge teasing at the edge of their enmeshed fields.

“I already know what I should tell you.” Soundwave admitted, the words coming more easily than he’d expected. “But it may be a while before I can bring myself to get through it in one sitting.” even thinking about Jazz had hurt, the first few decades after he’d killed the mech, and digging the memory back up had torn open those old wounds just as surely as recalling Nyon’s destruction had hurt Hot Rod.

“Well, nothing says we need to get it all done in one night.” Hot Rod hummed, settling in more comfortably against Soundwave. “And I think I’m plenty scuffed up and dented to make those creeps think twice about hitting on me tomorrow.”

Satisfaction flushed Soundwave’s field, and Hot Rod chuckled softly against his cheek. “C’mon, Soundy. Let’s recharge.” he tilted sideways, his arms around Soundwave’s neck unyielding, and they fell to the berth together. It was still messy, as were they, but that could be fixed in the morning. Soundwave rolled over onto his back, as he preferred, and Hot Rod shuffled himself half on top of Soundwave, helm and one hand resting on the crystal of his dock, engine purring and field radiating pure, satiated contentment. “So lucky to have you.” he mumbled, already halfway powered down for the night.

“And I, you.” Soundwave agreed, shuttering his optics and laying a hand over Hot Rod’s on his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to any not-logged-in readers, but due to an ex who refuses to leave me alone I have had to disable anon comments. Kudos are still open though, and if you want to scream (or would like me to write a fic for you) come check me out on Pillowfort! No account required to get my discord, and I'm always happy to chat. [[Link](https://www.pillowfort.social/GemmaRose)]


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